


It's never or now

by KendraPendragon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 22:24:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12177699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraPendragon/pseuds/KendraPendragon
Summary: One more story about the aftermath of The Phone Call.





	It's never or now

**Author's Note:**

> There are many alternatives of how the reconciliation between these two hurt people could go. I think way too much about this. This is an angsty version. But since I believe in these two idiots, and we saw that Molly obviously is still in Sherlock's life and happy again, this is angst with a happy ending

## 

With a shine in her eyes he has never seen before she drops her coat. Nothing, nothing underneath. His brain has a short.

Jesus.

He has come here to talk. She summoned him to talk. After weeks of silence and distance and fear he might have lost her for good she texted him to meet at Baker Street and talk things over.

He doesn't understand.

His heart is pounding, pumping blood, but not into his brain where he wants it.

Jesus.

Molly. Molly Hooper. Naked.

His eyes drink her in desperately, every detail, saving it in his mind palace for eternity in case he'll never see her like this again.

Gosh, she's so beautiful. So very beautiful. So god damn sexy...

Up to this moment his feelings for her have been gentle, tender, calm. A love so deeply peaceful and woven into his very being it took him seven bloody years to become fully aware of it.

This is what makes it so damn difficult to think, because now there is also lust, colliding with this love, mixing, merging into one big chaos of intense feelings. He wants to look at her forever, he wants to touch her breasts, feel her warm skin underneath his fingertips, he wants to kiss and taste every inch of her so badly he wants to fall to his knees and beg her to let him do it.

But he doesn't. He's too afraid she will say no. That he is misunderstanding. That the shine in her eyes isn't a challenge. That he's missing something. He's made so many mistakes with her. He has almost lost her. He still might lose her. Since the phone call he knows he couldn't handle that. Not to have her in his life...No. No.

The fear in his heart makes him realize that time is ticking, crucial seconds in which he just stands there and stares at her like an idiot. He doesn't know what to do.

"You said you wanted to talk", he manages to croak out, his eyes glued to her perky breasts.

"I'm done talking."

The tone in her voice slips through the fog of lust inside his head. His heart fills with more fear and he looks up.

He finally notices the thin lips, her flat breathing and the wetness in her eyes.

She's still angry. And hurt.

The look in her eyes.

Now he understands.

Seeing Molly naked the first time...

His insides scream.

  
There is no turning back. Things will never be the same. Nakedness is a powerful weapon. And she used it. Their friendship is ruined. It's lovers...or nothing at all.

He can't breathe. Because he wants nothing more. Because he's so afraid to lose her. Everyone he loved has suffered. The ones he loves the most are always in danger. Redbeard had died. John had almost been blown up, shot, burned alive and drowned.

Sheringford.

Molly on the screen.

Red numbers counting down.

A small, simple coffin with a golden plaque.

_I love you_

 

Tears are filling his eyes. She sees it. She presses her lips together and balls her hands into fists.

"I can't lose you."

It's the most honest, most laden thing he has ever said to her. Of course she understands.

A tear escapes her lashes.

"You already have."

A shiver runs through is body and he literally feels how she disappears, how she cuts the bonds that tie her to him.

"Molly-", he starts, a desperate attempt to try to make her understand, but she cuts him off.

"No."

This no is sharp and final. As is the look in her big brown eyes.

"It's never...or now."

He can see the pain that his fear and weakness has caused her, there is so much, dear God, he sees it all.

How could he ever ease that pain? How could he ever make her forget it? He can never give her what she deserves; a good man, a whole man, not the broken mess he is.

Another tear falls.

More pain he inflicts on her, just by being silent. He will destroy her.

And that will destroy him.

It's best to ler her go. To set her free, to find someone who truly deserves her love, who will make her happy, who will-

  
Her eyes grow cold. The last bond. Ripping. She's cutting herself free. She is slipping through his fingers.

She averts her eyes. Attemps to turn around, shield her naked body from his devouring eyes.

Molly

  
Molly  
  


_Molly!_   
  


 

"No!"

It's an outcry from the very depths of his soul.

Desperately he lunges forward and captures her once again. It feels like sin, but he can't do without her love. He wants her love. He craves  _her_  like nothing else.

He buries his hands in her hair and God yes then he kisses her with all the hunger he feels for his tiny, strong pathologist. His. Always his. Only his.

The built up frustration of the past years is being released and it almost drives him insane. He feels he's too rough with her, his hands tearing at her skin rather than caressing it, but he can't control himself. Now that he's finally tasting and feeling her, jesus, he can't stop.

He's so hungry for her. He bites into the mound of her breast and sucks the tender skin of her neck deep into his mouth.

Every inch of her will be his. Forever. God have mercy on her soul.

 

Even though his bedroom hasn't been affected by Eurus' bomb he takes her right here in the destroyed living room, only his coat and hers between their naked bodies and the torn, burnt carpet. Somehow he feels that it needs to happen here, in the ruins of his old life. He fills it with the sounds of their love making and transforms it to something new. The room feels revived when he lays there afterwards, Molly tightly wrapped in his arms, his coat used as a blanket.

They won't speak for hours, but they will make love several more times, more gentle and with more patience, kissing and looking into each other's eyes.

  
He tells her that he loves her, the golden plaque on the coffin pushed into the furthest corners of his mind. He solely focuses on the love he feels for the smiling woman in his arms.


End file.
